


a sight to die with

by Saraste



Series: KINKTOBER 2020 [13]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Incompatible Kink, Kinktober, M/M, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Jaskier likes erotic asphyxiation, Geralt is a little more reluctant.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: KINKTOBER 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949290
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	a sight to die with

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 13. breath control of KINKTOBER 2020.

He struggles so hard that his heels kick at the mattress, his mouth opening like a fish gasping on dry land. His fingers, no,  _ nails _ , scratching are at the big hands around his throat restricting his airway so much he can barely breathe. He cannot quite say why he wants this, why he asks for it… or why his lover provides.

‘Harder…’ he gasps, voice strangled, even when part of him, the struggling part, wants nothing but, yet the rest… it needs this.

There is a sort of dark euphoria in giving one's life in your beloved's hands, to fantasize that this would be the last face you ever saw, the utter delirium of  _ not being left behind  _ that sparks a sick flame of desire in him _. _

He knows that Geralt hates it, but he's the only one Jaskier can ask to do this, the only one with the best chance of not accidentally killing him, keen senses able to give Jaskier what he needs, just enough near-death.

His head swims as his movements are becoming weaker and the world is growing dark at the edges as his lungs scream for more air, Geralt's face, beloved and worried, becoming blurred.

It would be a sight to die with.

Darkness swallows him and then he's coming back to awareness with a gasp, his throat sore, he'll sound horrible for a while, but has no plans on singing anyway. Geralt's face hasn't gone anywhere, comes back fuzzy and concerned. 

'Please don't make me do this again,' Geralt pleads and Jaskier derives a twisted sort of pleasure from the hurt in his voice and is shamed for it, as much as he can be, in that moment.

He coughs and stretches, still hazy and slow woozy and deviantly pleased. 'We'll see.' His voice has never sounded as bad as it does now, not really. He touches the sore places on his throat, where imprints of Geralt's fingers are starting to blossom into bruises he’ll need to hide, his depraved cock jumping from the pain.

'Please…' Geralt asks before he bends down to kiss him chastely, gently and softly, not at all in the way Jaskier deserves with what he's asking of him.

His body, slow and heavy, still strives to move toward his Witcher like a flower bending towards the sun. Geralt is his inevitability, his destiny, the death of him, eventually, as he'll wilt away when Geralt leaves him, as he  _ will _ , and this time without coming back.

'Lie still, I'll take care of you…' Geralt's voice is a deep rumble, beloved and soothing and it makes Jaskier’s heart  _ ache _ .

He's gathered into that strong and familiar embrace, Geralt's lips tracing the sore skin of his throat oh-so-gently, and a big, warm hand takes hold of his cock and gives him a slow, glorious finish.

His throat is too sore to moan, so he whimpers and tells himself  _ no more _ .

And he almost believes himself this time, as so many times before.


End file.
